حين خمدت الألعاب النارية، فات أوان الدفء

Emil was relatively generous. During the divorce proceedings, he gave me $20 million on top of a car and a house.

I started a modest florist business with the money.

I had just bid farewell to a customer when I received a notification on my phone. It was a text from Emil, whom I hadn't contacted in three years.

"Meet me at the city hall tomorrow at nine o’clock. We’re getting remarried."

The tone of the text was as curt and authoritative as he had always been.

Just from the text alone, I could imagine the facial expression he wore when composing it—the same high and mighty demeanor that held himself above everything else.

I set my phone aside and did not reply to his text.

In the past, I would reply to his texts instantly, but now, even after ten minutes had passed, there was still no reply from me.

In a quite uncharacteristic manner, he double-texted me. "You’re not going to get another chance like this in your life again."

I frowned. He was as arrogant as ever.

Sure, Tara Everson from three years ago may be completely devoted to him.

However, what made him think I would still be as devoted to him after everything he had done? He had publicly cheated on me and fathered children with another woman!

I tapped on his profile and blocked him right then and there.

The next morning, I took my time and leisurely strolled into the city hall at ten o’clock. Just as I stepped onto the stairway, I heard a vexed grumble behind me.

"Tara, what happened to punctuality? I've been waiting for you here for a whole hour!"

It was Emil.

I frowned faintly. I assumed he would understand my absence of reply was effectively a refusal of his offer to get remarried.

I certainly did not expect him to not only show up anyway, but even wait for an hour.

How rare.

In the past, even just a five-minute wait was enough to irritate him to no end. It seemed like he was certain I would come today.

"Alright, let’s go. Quit dilly-dallying."

With that, he walked into the building.

After taking a couple of steps, he realized I did not follow after him. He frowned, making his displeasure known.

"Tara, that's enough! I have graciously waited for you for an hour, so don’t push your luck."

I rolled my eyes at how self-righteous he was acting. "Did I even ask you to wait?"

His face darkened. "What is that supposed to mean?"

I laughed. "What else do you think it means? I never planned to remarry you."

He did not believe me. "You may say that, but what your action says otherwise. Even though you showed up late, you’re still here, aren’t you? Relax. I gave you my word that we would wed again, provided you remember your role."

I rolled my eyes so hard they practically reached the back of my skull. In the few years since we last met, his narcissism had intensified.

I frowned. "Who told you I came here to remarry you? Did it ever cross your mind that I might be here to get a marriage license with someone else?"